The Dawn Of The Federation
by V'Kotik
Summary: What happened between "Terra Prime" and the alleged events of TATV. This story explores the long way towards the founding of the Federation and the early years of the Galaxy's new major power.
1. Preface

**Preface**

_The idea for this story has been at the back of my head for a long time. In fact it is already it's own reincarnation. The original story "Words" grew to 100 pages, before I had to face the grim reality that my writing – although evolved – did not live up to the premise, mainly, because I didn't have the right support in the form of more than one talented and knowledgeable beta reader, which for me as a non-native English speaker is most important. _

_My initial idea was to start at the end of the episode "Bound" but I revised that in favor of more canon friendliness. The only deviation from that route is, that I will consequently ignore the events of "These are the voyages...", since that particular – rightly criticized – "valentine" did not show any real events, but a holo-deck simulation, the historic accuracy of which cannot be ascertained. Several indicators, like the lack of transfers, promotions or deaths over the course of 10 years, which included the atrocious Earth-Romulan war, make it rather probable that the shown holo-deck simulation was an utter and complete fabrication. At a later point in this book, that topic will be dealt with accordingly._

Acknowledgments:

- The Vulcan mourning chant in chapter 1 is from The Vulcan Information Centre For Extravulcanians

- High Priest Torok is from Dinah's **The Thorne and the Rose **and its sequel **The Briar Patch **and appears with kind permission of his creator.

- A big thank you goes to my wonderful beta's **EntAllat **and **Cogito.**

- All pictures in the print-version of the story are from TrekCore

Enjoy  
>Kotik aka Lukenwolf<p> 


	2. The Spear In The Other's Heart

**Chapter 1**

The Spear In The Other's Heart

_Tilek svi'khaf-spol t'vathu - tilek svi'sha'veh._  
>Surak<p>

T'Pol had completely lost track of time while sitting on her bunk, still gently holding the hand of her human mate. The physical contact allowed her to feel the agony in the mind of Elizabeth's father and, although it should have theoretically added to her own pain, she found consolation in his presence just as the ancient texts in the recently rediscovered _Kir'Shara_ said she would.

Not only did this confirm her suspicion that they were bonded in a very rare and fulfilling union of true soul mates - a connection that so many Vulcans in ancient time had wished and searched for in vain - it also meant that her usual approach of dealing with things on her own, would lead to grave consequences. They needed each other and T'Pol had decided to not repeat the mistakes she had made before.

Without looking up to him, the IDIC pendant of her late mother still pressed to her cheek, she knew that his tears had not dried yet and she wished she could do the same and just let her grief take free reign. Instead of pondering the implications of such, she decided to do what she realized she should have done before. She decided to ask for his help, just as her older self had advised her.

"Trip," she asked softly. "Will you help me? I need your assistance to regain my composure."

Looking up to him, she saw into his tear stained face, his eyes reddened and unfocused. His weak nod indicated his agreement, before he put it into words. "I'll do whatever I can."

"I need you to meditate with me. It is the only way to deal with this."

Seeing his doubtful face expression, she surmised that he did not believe he'd be able to meditate. An explanation was obviously necessary.

"We need to connect our minds. We did so before and I believe it will help. Please sit down with me and do what you did that caused our spontaneous connections while you were on _Columbia._"

"We were trying to get the engines running smoothly, I checked on them by listening to their sound," he explained, while she helped him to sit down on her meditation cushions.

"Please do so again and try to reach my katra," she explained and lit the candle, before she sank into a deep meditation.

* * *

><p>Malcolm sat at his station and pondered the day's events. His upset stomach, which still caused a rather queasy feeling of discomfort, was a ridiculously banal predicament in contrast to the tragedy that had hit his best friend and the ship's first officer.<p>

As the ship's security officer it had always been his job to avert all sorts of danger and threats to the crew's welfare. But how did one fight a universe that seems hell bent on destroying two innocent people by throwing one tragedy after the other at them? Two children lost, a coerced marriage, death of a mother and a sister respectively – that was enough to break the will of a Klingon and he had been powerless to do anything about it.

He knew how ridiculous it was to ponder such things, as none of it could have been avoided no matter what he would have done, but it didn't take away the ache in his heart caused by seeing the two suffer. And he wasn't alone. All the crewmembers on the bridge had barely spoken a word since Captain Archer had returned from sickbay with the grim news that Elizabeth had died. The silence was deafening.

Both Hoshi and Ensign Mayumi Rao, T'Pol's second in command now manning the science station, had stains of tears on their faces. While his instinctive adoption of a stiff upper lip appearance had enabled him to avoid such open display of grief, he had almost succumbed to the urge to take Hoshi in his arms to console her.

Still deep in thought, he had missed captain Archer's approach.

"Malcolm?"

"Uh, sir," he replied after being startled out of his thoughts, slightly annoyed by his own lack of concentration.

"Can you scan for Trip and T'Pol? They were scheduled to meet me 15 minutes ago."

After he had initiated the sensor sweep, a schematic of T'Pol's quarters came up on his screen with two blinking dots – a red and a green one – located across from the door.

"They appear to be in commander T'Pol's quarters," Malcolm explained and with a slightly alarmed tone, added, "No sign of movement, sir."

"Can you give me a heat map?"

Malcolm started programming the sequence for a temperature differential sweep, and soon an overlay was drawn over the readout showing a singular heat source right between the two dots, each of which represented the secluded officers.

"Thought so," Archer said. "That's where her meditation mats are. I think the meeting can wait until after the morning briefing."

"Aye, sir," Malcolm answered and removed the data from the display.

* * *

><p>After several minutes of careful analysis of the engines' sound pattern, Trip found himself in what should have been T'Pol's white, empty space. Unlike last time however, it was dark – almost pitch black – and he had to squint a few times before he could see the vague shadow of T'Pol. She sat crouched down on the 'floor' and he heard the distinct sound of sobbing.<p>

After an initial feeling of shock, he remembered that she had explained to him, during their recent talk about the 'birds and bees' of being bonded, that Vulcans expressed their emotions within their minds during meditation. But theory was one thing. Witnessing it was an entirely different experience. Before he could say something, T'Pol started reciting an ancient text. It had to be ancient, it sounded somewhat like medieval English in his mind.

_Darkness reigns over the endless plains of the Forge,  
>T'Rukh, the nightly watcher,<br>covers her regal face with a veil of clouds,_  
><em>now, it is falling night in me.<em>

_Parted from me and never parted,  
>never and always touching and touched.<em>

_I gently caress the transparent filigree of Thy katra,  
>with my mind's tears so far away and yet so near.<br>The once so glorious and firm bridge,  
>of the precious link between us,<br>now reduced to only a pale, dying shadow of the living,  
>breathing presence of Thee, my Loved One.<em>

_Parted from me and never parted,  
>never and always touching and touched.<em>

_Though I will have to release Thee,  
>I plead with nome - the All the mighty Immanence,<br>that I could be holding on to my bridge to Thee forever more.  
>May we hold on together, opposing the scorns of time,<br>belying our fate, belying our grief,  
>beyond life, beyond death,<br>beyond tears and beyond fear._

_Eternity is a concept,  
>filled with new meaning,<br>now that Thou hast ceased  
>to enrich my life with purpose and with joy.<em>

_Thou leavest behind a void in me, cold as the desert night,  
>sharp and piercing as the desperate,<br>high-pitched cry of a lofty bird circling Mount Seleya,  
>that becomes the breath of wind once it dies,<br>and that never touches the ground,  
>incomparable beauty in life and in death.<em>

_Thou hast honoured me with Thy presence,  
>Thou was my teacher, my student, my friend and my child<br>may Thy voice be heard,  
>in the Hall of Ancient Thought,<br>to where I have conferred,  
>the most precious gift I have ever known.<br>Mayst Thou never be forgotten_

_Go free, my Love!  
>join the ceaseless murmur of the wind in the Old City<br>go free, my More-Than-Worthy!  
>become a grain in the storm-lashed, sun-seared sand,<br>an indistinguishable mass from the distance,  
>but singular in its essence,<br>for no sand-grain is alike,  
>in its infinite diversity<em>

Trip's heart felt as if it was about to be ripped out of his chest. Hearing an ancient lament, recited by a Vulcan in a breaking, sobbing voice was almost too much to bear. But what struck him the most was the realization that – if the content of the chant was anything to go by – she must have had the same mental connection to Elizabeth, that she had to him. Suddenly he understood what she meant when she said that she knew Elizabeth was theirs. Only now he began to understand the sheer amount of agony she felt. She had had a part of her soul ripped out of her.

"Can I do something?" he asked softly, after she had finished her heart-breaking lament.

"Hold me, please."

At first the request caused an almost instinctive confusion, considering Vulcan's prohibitive attitude towards touch, but Trip remembered that all this was happening on a mental, rather than physical level. He sat down behind her and slung his arm around her waist, gently rocking her, while T'Pol quietly sobbed for a long time.

* * *

><p>Hoshi pondered the wisdom of interrupting Captain Archer's discussion with Ambassador Soval. She decided that the chances of her request being granted were better if Soval was present and so she pushed the call button next to the door to the ready room.<p>

Noticing the questioning looks of Travis and Malcolm, she almost missed Archer's call to enter.

"Hoshi?" Archer asked, when she came in. Ambassador Soval sat in one of the armchairs, something she found slightly odd as Vulcans usually preferred to stand.

"Um, sir," she began carefully, "I know you said in the morning briefing that Ambassador Soval would do the translation during the memorial service, but I was wondering if there was a chance that I could get permission to do it instead."

Seeing Archer's questioning looks and Soval's inquisitively raised eyebrow, she decided to elaborate.

"Elizabeth was half Vulcan and half Human. Wouldn't it be a stronger symbol if the service was done by a Vulcan and a human instead of two Vulcans? And... and T'Pol's my friend. I want to do this for her."

"After such a long time it's only natural that we get closer to each other, but T'Pol still keeps her distance to everyone but Trip. Are you sure that T'Pol would see you as a closer friend than, let's say, Ensign Rao?" Archer asked with what Hoshi thought was slight surprise.

Hoshi nodded and explained. "When I was injured, when we ran into the Romulan mine field, Commander Tucker suggested that T'Pol visit me to check on my recovery. She came to my quarters and we talked about a lot of things. It was the first time we ever talked about anything that wasn't related to duty. We've met often since then. T'Pol helped me with my studies of Golic Vulcan, I helped her understand human colloquialisms. With Commander Tucker being a constant source of new phrases, we met quite often."

Hoshi felt it strangely soothing to see Archer smile for the first time that day.

"Ensign Sato," Soval interrupted. "If it is not too intrusive, do you know T'Pol's age?"

"Yes, sir, she told me," Hoshi explained, knowing that Soval would know how to interpret the fact that T'Pol had revealed her age. He would see it as the Vulcan equivalent of a very close friendship.

"I believe we should grant Ensign Sato's request," Soval explained. "Her reasoning is logical and I believe it would be T'Pol's wish to have a friend take part in the ritual."

"Ok, Hoshi, permission granted."

"Thank you, sirs," Hoshi said and left.

* * *

><p>When T'Pol was roused from meditation, she saw that Trip's mental faculties and his body had taken two very different courses of action. While he had stayed with her, holding her in her mind, his physical presence had succumbed to exhaustion and lay now in deep sleep on the floor of her quarters. Thankfully there were so many cushions that he did not end up on the cold floor. She arranged some of the remaining cushions in a way that allowed her to rest by his side, then dropped her robe and grabbed a blanket from the bunk. Gently lying down, she draped the blanket over them and soon she joined him in an exhausted slumber.<p>

* * *

><p>Starfleet memorial ground was packed. Even though the media had acquiesced to the Vulcan consulate's wish to stay away, the sheer number of mourners had exceeded all expectations. The little coffin of Elizabeth T'Mir Tucker had lain in state for an entire day and hundreds of thousands had spent hours waiting in line to walk past the dais and pay their respects to the deceased infant. Parents, some of which had lost children of their own in the Xindi attack, had walked past and little children had left stuffed toys as a last gift to little Elizabeth.<p>

Malcolm Reed sighed heavily. This was the second time that he had to change the honor guard, as one of the two MACO's standing watch could not fight her tears any longer.

"I'm sorry, sir."

"It's ok, Amanda," he said soothingly. "This is hard for all of us."

"I just couldn't hold it any longer..."

"It's all right. Nobody will hold it against you."

Watching the Corporal leave towards the resting area, he took out his tactical scanner and checked all the security posts. He had been powerless to avoid this tragedy, but at least he could make sure that no new one would arise at the funeral.

One of the few things that had lifted his spirits in this whole mess was Earth's reaction. Once word had come out that the child's parents were two heroes of the Xindi war and that the infant had died due to a deliberately engineered genetic defect, the population had almost gone berserk. The prison in which Paxton was incarcerated had been besieged by thousands of protesters. Anti-Terra Prime demonstrations had replaced the xenophobic hate rallies.

Early this morning Berlin, NewYork, Moscow and London among other major cities had reported staggering crowds of millions of people calling for the wrath of United Earth to come down on those responsible for this abhorrent crime. There had even been calls for reintroduction of the death penalty.

A beep from his communicator interrupted his thoughts.

"Reed."

"Lieutenant, we are ready to come down. Is everything set?"

"Yes, Captain. You have permission to approach landing ground beta."

"Acknowledged."

Closing his communicator, Malcolm jogged towards the grounds, where the ceremony was to be held. When he arrived, he spotted an elderly pair of humans who looked somewhat lost. Somehow they seemed familiar but he didn't immediately know why.

"Madam, sir, I'm Lieutenant Malcolm Reed. Can I help you?"

"Trip's friend from England," said the woman. "Glad to meet you. I'm Catherine Tucker. This is my husband Charles Tucker Jr."

"The pleasure is mine," Malcolm answered and shook the hands of both of them. "I know you never met her, but please let me express my condolences for the loss of your granddaughter."

"Thank you, Mr. Reed," Catherine answered sadly. "We don't even know her name."

Malcolm hesitated. "Elizabeth, her name is Elizabeth T'Mir Tucker."

As could be expected, Trip's mother broke into tears and Malcolm wondered if he should do something to console the woman but Trip's father put his arm around his sobbing wife.

"It was Commander T'Pol's idea, sir," he said when he saw Charles Tucker's questioning, bleary-eyed look.

"We want to meet her," the man answered in a breaking voice.

"If you would follow me, please," Malcom said and indicated towards landings site beta. They are on their way down here."

* * *

><p>Charles Tucker Jr. still had his arm soothingly slung around his wife's waist, when the shuttle pod landed with a soft thud. Looking around, he saw a lot of people waiting for them. There was the Vulcan Ambassador, the arrogant, condescending man, who in recent news transmissions had appeared to be almost sympathetic. Beside him was an even older Vulcan, who, by all he knew about them, could just as well have been born two centuries ago. Not too far from them stood several well-known human politicians, including Nathan Samuels. On the other side of the crowd were several bright blue aliens, all blond with twitching antennae on their heads. <em>Andorians, <em>he remembered. Then there were the pigs, little stout people with snouts, who liked to be insulted as he recalled from Trip's transmissions. _Tellarites, _he thought. One thing was sure. If all these aliens congregated to pay respect to their grandchild, she surely had been important and he felt that at least her death was not in vain.

He watched _Enterprise_'s officers leave the shuttle pod. First was Jon, the man who had recruited his son as the Chief Engineer, followed by a young Japanese woman in a black ceremonial Kimono. _Must be Hoshi Sato, _he thought. He remembered that Trip had - not too long ago - almost died with her from some obscure virus. When Trip came out, he gasped slightly. Seeing his son in Vulcan ceremonial robes was a new experience. Trip lent a hand to the woman following him, a beautiful Vulcan in a long black human dress with a black veil – the mother of their grandchild.

* * *

><p>Having done one last checking sweep of all his security posts, Malcolm took his place to the left of Captain Archer as the ceremony was about to begin.<p>

An old Vulcan steadying himself on a cane, stood before the grave into which the tiny coffin had just been lowered. Hoshi was by his side, ready to translate the Vulcan ritual words.

"_Dor-tor etek nash-gad vokaya t'T'Mir Elizabeth - ko-kan t'Charles heh t'T'Pol. Nam-tor ek'etek nelauk k'tevakh hi vesht tvidonik k'pen-ha'kiv t'oko-veh."_

"Today we honor the memory of Elizabeth T'Mir, child of Charles and T'Pol. We are all diminished by her death but we were enriched by her short life," Hoshi translated and Malcolm could not suppress the flash of pride that he felt at Hoshi's brave decision to take on this sad duty.

"_Dor-tor etek nash-gad oko-veh - doran ko-kan - doran ko-kai - doran ko-bath - doran ko-kan-kan - doran ko-thrah. Noshau pen-ha'kiv t'oko-veh wuhkuh t'dan-fudaya eh t'dan-vam"_

"Today we honor her: We honor the daughter, the sister, the niece, the grandchild, the friend. Her brief life is one to be held in the highest regard and esteem."

Malcolm did a double take. _The sister? _Had the old Vulcan priest really just accepted the existence of Lorian, despite all the Vulcan insistence that time travel was impossible?

"_Dungi i'stariben mekhu - zahalan k'fan-vath-kanlar t'au s'keshtan-zek - kuv aitlu au fan-vel hau"_

"The parents will now speak, followed by any other children, in birth order, if they want to add anything."

He saw Hoshi whisper something to the old Vulcan. Hoshi had probably just told him that none of her parents was in any condition to speak. At least, that was the impression he got from watching Trip and T'Pol clutching each other's hand as if hanging on for dear life. Malcolm put his right hand in his pocket and pressed a button on his communicator. This sent the preprogrammed signal to his second in command back on the ship to send down _Shuttlepod Two_, which would take Trip and T'Pol back as soon as the ceremony was over.

"_Pi'maat heh t'hai'lu t'etek - sochya eh dif," _Trip and T'Pol said in perfect unison.

"Our family and friends . . . peace and long life," they repeated in English and Malcolm could clearly hear that both of them were fighting for control. What puzzled him even more was the fact that Trip was speaking in Vulcan - and without his southern accent by the sound of it.

"_Dif-tor heh smusma," _the old Vulcan priest answered.

"Live long and prosper," Hoshi translated, just before she lost the fight against the tears and this time Malcolm lost his fight, too. Officer's conduct be hanged, he rushed to her side and took her in his arms. Hoshi buried her face in his chest clinging to him as all the tears she had bravely kept down during the ceremony were set free. Looking around self-consciously, Malcolm saw Captain Archers understanding nod. Even the old Vulcan priest seemed understand Hoshi's outburst and his public contact to console her. _Maybe the Vulcans are learning to accept us as we are, after all, _he thought and continued rubbing Hoshi's back gently to soothe her.

* * *

><p>"Trip, T'Pol, get out of here," Archer said. "Malcolm has sent down shuttle pod two. Soval and I will handle the guests."<p>

"Thanks, Jon," Trip managed in a breaking voice, before he lead a shaking T'Pol away towards the direction that Jon indicated.

"Are the parents safe?" Soval asked a few minutes later.

"They are, Ambassador. Thank you for your help with the ceremony."

"It was the logical course of action, Captain."

"Including hauling Vulcan's high priest to Earth?" Archer asked.

"High Priest Torok requested to officiate at the ceremony."

"And some say, Vulcans are slow to change," Jon said with a slight undercurrent of irony.

"As my good friend Maxwell would have said, Torok is not your garden variety Vulcan, Captain," Soval answered with a raised brow.

"Jon?"

Jon turned to see Trip's parents looking at him questioningly.

"Catherine, Charlie, glad to see you."

"Where are Trip and T'Pol?"

"They've been under a lot of stress. They headed back to the ship as soon as the ceremony was over."

"We had hoped we could at least meet them," Catherine said and Jon's heart ached at the sheer sadness in her voice.

"You can," he said softly. "Give them a night to recover and tomorrow I'll send a shuttle to take you to _Enterprise._"

"Sending a shuttle will not be necessary," Soval said. "As I shall visit your ship tomorrow, I shall also provide transport for Elizabeth's fore-parents."

Jon saw the almost shocked look of Charles and Catherine.

"I grieve with thee," Soval added with a nod to Trip's parents.

"Much obliged, Ambassador," said Charles Jr.


	3. On Approach To Vulcan

**On Approach To Vulcan**

As the door chime roused them from their meditation, Trip gestured her to stay seated, seeing that her regained control was still brittle at best. He pushed the button on the panel and the door opened to reveal three elderly persons. Dismissing the young security crewman who had escorted them, he stepped aside and motioned them to come in. Seeing the visitors T'Pol shot up from the meditation cushions and took position at Trip's side.

Trip recognized one of the visitors as the old priest from yesterday's memorial service. He recognized the other two guests instantly, but he was not quite sure why his folks would arrive in company of a Vulcan priest.

"Ambassador Soval gave us a ride to _Enterprise_, son," his father said and Trip wondered why his folks still seemed to read him like an open book. Being busted as a kid for each and every mischief was one thing, but even well into his thirties, his parents still seemed to have this knack for knowing instinctively what was going on in his mind.

"I'll say thanks when I see him," Trip answered. "I'm glad you could come."

He offered a silent _Ta'al_ to the Vulcan priest that was equally silently returned, before he took the hands of his mother in his, trying not to be too expressive in the presence of two Vulcans. He should of course have known that his mother did not have such reservations as she wrapped him in a bear hug.

"Mom," he whispered. "not in front of the Vulcans."

Seeing his mothers confused look as she let go of him, he was prevented from having to explain any further by Toroks interruption.

"Your consideration honors you, young man, but such restrictions are not necessary. You are human. The former government of Vulcan had a predilection to impose their cultural views on other species, but these times are in the past."

"Thank you, sir," Trip said with an appreciative nod towards the Vulcan.

"The correct address is 'Excellency', Trip," T'Pol answered slightly scandalized. "High Priest Torok is the highest priest of Vulcan."

Before a stunned looking Trip could offer an apology, Torok again prevented him from doing so by raising his hand.

"His address is not unseemly. He is not a Vulcan and I do not have the same status in Human society. The need to adjust it may still arise though if my suspicion is correct."

Trip shot Torok a questioning look.

"I did not come here without reason, young man. During the ceremony I sensed a connection between you and T'Pol that is unusually strong. Such bonds have not been heard of since ancient times."

"Bond? What bond?" Charles Jr asked, now looking equally confused at Torok.

"When two Vulcans marry, they develop a telepathic connection between their minds. Such bonding is initiated by a priest during the joining ceremony. Since there is no evidence of such a ceremony in Vulcan records, the bond between these young people must have established itself without a priests intervention."

"That's true, sir," Trip said, nodding. "We didn't notice until we were separated, when I transferred to _Columbia_."

Motioning them all to take a seat, Trip held out a chair for Torok, while his parents sat down on T'Pol's bunk. They all waited for the explanation from their Vulcan guest.

"A bonding without a bonding meld is unheard of since the time of Awakening. I believe the human expression for it is 'a blessed union'. "

"May I ask something?" Charles interrupted and Trip saw Torok nod.

"You said it is a telepathic connection. Does that mean they can read each others minds? They are in each others heads?"

"The description is crude, but considering that most humans are not telepathic and therefore have no comparable images it would be a fitting one. In a typical bond between mates they can sense each others presence and, if they are strong, they can sense each others emotions. The bond between T'Pol and your son is the strongest that I haven ever sensed. Ancient texts speak of mates that can speak without words. With the proper training they may one day be able to exchange thoughts and images without restriction and over long distances."

"Isn't that... you know... a bit unhealthy?" Charles asked and Trip could hear genuine concern mixed with utter confusion in his father's voice. He could only begin to imagine how confused his parents must be at the moment. Coming for a funeral of a granddaughter they never knew about, they were suddenly facing a daughter-in-law from another planet they never met before, and all of it was explained to them by the Vulcan equivalent of the Pope.

"Dad, if that's unhealthy, I'll be happily sick for the rest of my life," Trip said and tapped his temple.

"As I suspected," Torok said. "You have decided to accept this bonding?"

"Yes, Excellency," T'Pol answered.

"In this case I shall offer you my services to witness your bond and make your marriage official," Torok said.

"We'd be honored, sir," Trip said in awe. "But we don't know when that will be. Our ship needs to be refitted and we don't know when we'll be near Vulcan next time, but we would certainly like to accept your gracious offer once we get a chance."

"Leave that to me, young man," Torok said and stood up. "I shall leave you now to make the necessary preparations. Peace and long life."

"Live long and prosper," Trip and T'Pol answered.

After escorting Torok to the door, Trip turned to see the shell-shocked faces of his parents.

"Sorry you got it all dumped on you so quickly," he said apologetically.

"Got any other surprises?" Charles asked warily.

"Um,well, there's Lorian... or was... We don't know..."

=/\=

Charles watched the face of his son as they made their way to the airlock after a long day spent with Trip and T'Pol, a complete tour of the ship with Jon and a nice meal in the captain's mess. He admired the composure and strength that Trip showed in this difficult situation and he was convinced that T'Pol had a major hand in this. Whatever people thought about Vulcans – whatever he himself had thought about them – seeing them together was every proof he needed to see that she was the best that ever happened to his son. Considering his abysmal track record with the female of the species, that was saying a lot.

On the other hand, he still felt as if he was having a weird, booze-induced dream. His boy was getting married to an alien – a very beautiful one – and Elizabeth wasn't the only grandchild he never new about. There was or had been a grandson too, and to make it that little bit weirder he had actually been older than him. He decided to keep that story to himself, because Trip had told them that it was classified material, only divulged to them because of a special permit from Starfleet and because he didn't fancy being carted off to the mental home by his friends. Nobody would believe such a bizarre story.

"You don't know what it means to us that you came up here," he heard Trip say. "I'm so sorry I couldn't be with you after the Xindi attack."

"Don't worry, boy," Charles said. "If you guys hadn't gone after them, we wouldn't be having this conversation now and we couldn't have helped each other anyway. It took us half a year before we could even talk about it. We spent more time in Counselor Browns office than at home. I don't think we can ever thank T'Pol enough for getting you through that."

"She's been my life-line, that's for sure," Trip agreed. "You sure you don't want to come with us to Vulcan? We'd love to have you at the ceremony."

"No son, you heard what that high priest said. There's nothing that forbids a human ceremony after it is made all legal on Vulcan and your mother has waited all her life to organize the weddings for her kids. We lost one chance with Lizzy, we ain't gonna waste the second," he said with a sad smile.

"Looking forward to that," Trip said and put a kiss on his mother's cheek.

=/\=

Minister Kuvak walked into the chamber of the High Council, where First Minister T'Pau was already waiting for him.

"You wished to see me, Minister?"

"Yes, Kuvak. I received a communique from High Priest Torok. He will return to Vulcan on the Earth vessel."

"I was informed that the vessel was severely damaged and needed extensive repairs," Kuvak answered. "Would it not be more prudent to provide our own transport?"

"The situation has changed," T'Pau explained. "_Enterprise _will undergo temporary repairs and set course for Vulcan. High Priest Torok shall witness the bond between Commander T'Pol and the human Commander Charles Tucker III on Mount _Seleya_."

For the first time in 140 years Kuvak was rendered speechless. He knew who Charles Tucker was, but a witnessing ceremony had not been held for almost 2000 years, much less between a Vulcan and an off-worlder.

"Does that mean...?"

"Yes, Kuvak, they are true _Ashayam_ as the ancient texts describe. The commanders have expressed their wish to visit Lady T'Les's burial site prior to the ceremony. During that time the Earth vessel will be refitted at the T'Kuth shipyards. We never offered the humans an appropriate gesture of gratitude for their part in overthrowing V'Las' government. We will use this opportunity to do so."

"I agree with the gesture, but is it really advisable to allow them entry into the Forge?"

"High Priest Torok has been made aware of the dangers. I have witnessed the humans myself in the Forge. They are capable of defending themselves," she dismissed Kuvaks worries before returning to the topic of the ship refit. "Since you are responsible for fleet operations, I charge you with organizing this project. Your liaison in Starfleet is Commodore O'Riordan of Starfleet Engineering. We have agreed to share some of our shielding technology with Earth. Starfleet Engineering is currently reviewing the schematics to determine how to incorporate our technology into their designs. Professor Solan will oversee the technical aspects of this for Vulcan.

"I shall contact Earth as soon as I have reviewed all data," Kuvak said, taking the PADD from T'Pau.

=/\=

As Malcolm came into the mess hall after a long day of trying to put the armory back together, the room was almost empty. After fetching two sandwiches from the food selection, he made his way towards a table where Trip sat with a mug of tea, reading a PADD.

"Engineering reports?" Malcolm asked and put his tray on the table.

"No," Trip answered, putting his PADD to the side. "It's some stuff I got from High Priest Torok. It's for me to prepare myself. T'Pol and I will go into the Forge when we get to Vulcan. We want to visit T'Les's grave."

"How are you two holding up?" Malcolm asked.

"We're doing OK under the circumstances. T'Pol is past the worst and the Cap'n has really been a help by not making a fuss that I spend all my time in her quarters."

"Well, he probably knows that you two are together, just like the rest of the ship. And everybody with half a brain knows that you need each other to cope with all that."

"Maybe," Trip said, and it looked to Malcolm as if he was thinking hard about something. "Mal, can I ask you a favor?"

"Sure."

"I mean, it's a little late," Trip said, "but it's important for me and especially T'Pol. On Vulcan each kid gets a set of godparents and... and I'd like you to be Lizzy's godfather."

Malcolm choked on his sandwich, desperately trying not to show how much Trip's question moved him. Although there were only a few people in the room, at least three of them were from his department and the last thing he needed were rumors of the boss going soft.

"I'd be honored," Malcolm uttered.

=/\=

Sensing his approach, T'Pol opened her eyes after a long meditation. For the first time since Elizabeth's death, she felt firmly in control of the raging tidal waves of emotions which had taxed her mind over the last few days.

The door opened and Trip entered the room in civilian clothes. T'Pol knew that meant he desired to spend the night with her. Actually that had been the case every day since he fell asleep during their joint meditation and she realized that she had had the same wish every time. Considering what they had learned about the nature of their bond, it was only logical to continue the practice, even if it meant resting on the meditation cushions on the floor as the bunk was way too narrow for two persons to rest comfortably.

"How're ya doing?" he asked softly after she returned his kiss.

"Meditation was most effective," she said, taking the cup of tea he had brought her. "There is something we need to discuss."

"Go ahead," he said, taking a seat on the opposite side of her still-burning meditation candle.

"I asked Hoshi to be Elizabeth's _En'ahr'at_. She accepted."

T'Pol expected him to be upset about not being consulted on such a matter, but instead Trip smiled for the first time in days. She was confused.

"You find this amusing?"

"No, it's just... I sort of had the same idea and asked Malcolm to be her godfather. Isn't that the same as _Ener._.."

"_En'ahr'at _means both godparent and adoptive parent in Vulcan. I find the selection of Malcolm Reed as her male _En'ahr'at _agreeable. "

"And Hoshi is who I'd have chosen myself, too," Trip continued her sentence. "She's the closest friend you have on the ship. Besides me, that is."

"Indeed."

"That gives me an idea," Trip said. "What would you think about inviting Malcolm and Hoshi to our ceremony on Mount Seleya? Bit like bridesmaid and best man in a human wedding."

"That would be most agreeable and I also wish them to assume these positions in our human ceremony."

"Great," Trip said and T'Pol saw with satisfaction that his endearing smile was starting to return, even if not as frequent as it had been. "Do you know the com code of Hoshi's quarters?"

"Fifty seven," T'Pol answered and seeing his concentrated look of mental calculation, she added: "Two-fifty-six is their combined code."

"Thanks darlin'."

He entered the code and hailed them. "Commander Tucker to Lieutenant Reed and Ensign Sato."

"Can you please come to T'Pol's quarters?" he asked, after they had both answered his hail. Both answered in the affirmative, almost simultaneously.

=/\=

"Come in," T'Pol answered the door chime a few minutes later. As both Lieutenant Reed and Hoshi entered together, she surmised that Mr. Reed had waited for Hoshi to arrive, since his quarters were much closer to hers than those of Hoshi.

"Please take a seat," she said and indicated the places left and right of the candle. She saw and silently enjoyed Trip's smile at Lieutenant Reed's slightly awkward attempts to find a comfortable posture, while for Hoshi as a Japanese it was second nature to sit on a mat on the floor.

"We have realized that we both – independently – wished for you to be Elizabeth's _En'ahr'at_."

"We're honored," Hoshi answered for both of them.

"We also wish you to be the first to be informed that High Priest Torok has offered to perform the witnessing ceremony. It is the Vulcan equivalent of a wedding ceremony on Earth and we wish both of you to be present at the ceremony."

"Now there's a predictable surprise," Malcolm said and offered Trip a congratulatory pat on the shoulder, while Hoshi smiled silently with a tear forming in her eye.

"Why is it called a witnessing ceremony?" Hoshi asked, her voice thick with emotion.

T'Pol could see the tears in her friend's eyes, and surmised that this was one of the instances in which humans did not cry out of distress, but out of exceedingly moving, positive emotions. Before she could answer, however, the door chime interrupted her.

"Enter," she said, and to her surprise Torok entered their quarters.

"I see that I have arrived at an inopportune moment," Torok said.

"Not at all, Excellency," T'Pol answered, while Trip moved over to sit with Malcolm, vacating the spot opposite of T'Pol for Torok.

"May I introduce you to our guests? These are Lieutenant Malcolm Reed and Ensign Hoshi Sato, Elizabeth's _En'ahr'at._"

Torok regarded them both with a nod after he had assumed his position – surprisingly swiftly for a man of his advanced age.

"This means I may have indeed arrived at a most convenient time," Torok said and looked at Malcolm. "Lieutenant Reed, you are in charge of the vessel's security, are you not?"

"I am, sir."

"In answer to my communique to the High Council, I have received instructions to advise Commanders Tucker and T'Pol against venturing into the Forge. The latest intelligence suggests that remaining followers and perhaps even V'Las himself might be hiding there."

"Sorry, sir, but this is important to T'Pol," Trip started to protest, but T'Pol saw him go silent immediately after Torok raised his hand.

"I expected you to be insistent, young man. I agree with Minister T'Pau that it is a dangerous endeavor, but maybe, if you chose to take Lieutenant Reed with you, he might be able to provide defensive measures, should they become necessary."

"I'll go with them, sir," Malcolm answered immediately, without waiting for Trip or T'Pol's consent. Now that he was aware of the danger, T'Pol knew that he would never let them off the ship if they declined, so she made no move to do so.

"I'll go, too," Hoshi offered. "Four eyes see more than two."

"We are grateful for your help," T'Pol said and before she could warn him against it, Trip was already on his feet, offering a hand to help Torok stand up. To her surprise the wise old man accepted it without a hint of protest – on the contrary, he even offered a silent nod of gratitude - before leaving her quarters.

"So, back to my question," Hoshi said after the door had closed. "Why is it called a witnessing ceremony?"

"I shall explain," T'Pol began.

=/\=

Hoshi lay in her bunk, recalling the events of the evening before. That Trip and T'Pol were an item had been plainly visible to anyone who bothered to look, but what T'Pol had explained after Toroks departure was hard to fathom – a telepathic link that had established itself spontaneously and they were getting married, too. She had of course read about it in the writings that she could access after the _Kir'Shara_ had been found, but reading about it in theory and seeing and knowing two people who actually had such a connection, were two very different things.

Ever since first reading about it, she had dreamed what it would be like to feel the emotions of the man who had stolen her heart. Would she be able to sense feelings that concerned her? Would she sense how it hurt him to ignore these feelings in favor of antiquated rules that prohibited relationships between fellow officers? Maybe there wasn't anything to feel at all and Malcolm had someone else he pinned for?

Hoshi sighed as her thoughts spiraled into the same turmoil that had been an almost constant companion ever since she had found herself embraced by his strong arms after Elizabeth's funeral. To feel the usually reserved Brit so close was something she would savor for a long, long time.

Her brooding was cut short by a chime from the com panel.

"Lieutenant Reed to Ensign Sato."

"Sato here."

"Ensign, could you please come to the Armory? I need your help."

"On my way."

When she walked into the Armory she found it empty except for Malcolm, who was bent over a computer terminal muttering to himself.

"You wanted to see me?" she said as she approached him.

"Uh, yes," Malcolm answered and pointed towards his computer screen. I'm searching for a weapon that we can use in the Forge and I'm drawing a blank, every time I look something up. I spoke to the captain. He said that Vulcans in the Forge use a weapon called _lirpa_."

He put up an image of the weapon.

"As you can see, it looks like a battleaxe on one side and a war hammer on the other. Unless we ask Engineering to build us some spiked clubs, I cannot think of any useful weapon in our arsenal to go against that. We could use MACO batons, but I don't think they are a match against physically superior Vulcans with a bladed weapon. I thought, with your cultural background, you might have some idea?"

"You want to go ninja?" Hoshi asked coyly and flashed him her brightest smile. She could barely keep the giggle down when she saw him blushing slightly.

"Maybe something like that," Malcolm said. "I thought about _nun-chaku_, but I doubt we could learn to use them quickly enough."

"Why don't we use ranged weapons?" Hoshi asked, wondering why the armory officer of all people hadn't thought about that.

"Nothing but mechanical devices works down there," Malcolm said with a frustrated head-shake. "The captain still has one of the revolvers from the human colony in the Expanse, but we don't have any ammunition for it, and even if we could replicate bullets for it, it would still leave three of us without a weapon."

"Bows and arrows would work," Hoshi said, and let out a giggle at the incredulous look she got from him.

"You want to go down there with bows and arrows like a bunch of Sioux?"

"Well, they worked against buffaloes, so they should be enough to cope with a Vulcan. They are relatively easy to build, too."

"But it would take too long for Trip and me to learn to use them effectively, I'm afraid," Malcolm said.

"Then we use crossbows. They're handled like a rifle, but are almost as easy to produce as a bow," Hoshi explained, taking a PADD from a nearby table. Using a small electronic pen, she started to draw something.

"What's that going to be?" Malcolm asked, standing by her side and looking over her shoulder. Hoshi found it hard to concentrate with him so near.

"_Hira-shuriken_, " Hoshi explained. "They're bladed stars that are thrown. Engineering could produce them in numbers very quickly and they are extremely effective."

"So who's going ninja now?" Malcolm asked and she returned his little smile with a bright one of her own.

"That leaves one final question though," Malcolm said. "If they sneak up on us or we're ambushed, we might still be forced to engage in hand-to-hand combat. I thought of replicating lirpa's, but except for T'Pol, none of us has any experience in using them and we don't have much time for practice."

"I have an idea," Hoshi said, quickly calling up one of the MACO files. It showed a combat baton made from steel. Each officer had been given basic training with those during their Expanse mission, even if it was not as intensive as the training of MACO troops.

"T'Pol told me about the gallicite deposits in the Forge. That means static electricity works just fine down there. The _lirpas_ are made of metal. That means if we drill a hole in these batons, let Engineering fuse a few ridges to it to act as a cathode, fill them with a paste of chemicals that react slowly and produce enough electricity, all you need to do is hit the lirpa or an exposed bit of skin with it and they'll be electrocuted or at least immobilized."

"Wouldn't we do the same thing to ourselves?" he asked

"Vulcans don't use gloves, but we do," Hoshi answered. "Their blood is copper based, so it is much more conductive than ours, too."

"I didn't know you were a chemistry expert," Malcolm said.

"I'm the com officer and I had to take lessons in communication history. There's a reason that telephone cables had copper cores, before they were made obsolete by optical transmission."

Hoshi looked up at him and saw him in deep thought, before he broke into a smile. Before she knew what was happening, he grabbed her and planted a peck on her cheek. "The whole thing works just like old fashioned batteries. Hoshi, you're a genius!"

Touching her hand to her cheek, she didn't know what to answer.

"I...I'm sorry, Ensign," Malcolm stuttered, when he realized what he had done.

"Nothing to apologize for," she said and returned the favor. Sauntering over to another terminal, she left a stunned and very blushed Malcolm behind.

=/\=

"Now, old boy; It's not the same as it was, is it?"

Porthos raised his head from his paws and gave a little yelp, before continuing to doze in his corner of the captain's quarters. Although it had been a quite day in Vulcan orbit, Jon felt empty, tired and very lonely.

Their honored guest had – quite surprisingly – accepted an invitation to a dinner after leaving Earth orbit, but ever since then he was scarcely seen, spending his time alone in meditation or in T'Pol's quarters practicing meditation or other mental disciplines with her and Trip. A weak smile graced his face when he tried to imagine Trip sitting ramrod straight staring into a candles flame, but as quickly as it came the smile made way for a frown as realization grew stronger and stronger, just how much he missed his estranged friend. Between practicing Vulcan discipline in T'Pol's quarters and building strange weapons in engineering he had barely seen anything of Trip or T'Pol during the entire trip to Vulcan.

Friends were a rare luxury to begin with for a man in his position and maintaining the few close friendships as a starship captain was hard. Being forced into a bloody conflict with the Xindi had made it impossible and the motto 'It is lonely at the top' had become a grim reality.

Sighing, Jon called up one of his numerous water polo recordings and fetched a bottle of Andorian Ale from a drawer.


	4. Unexpected Discoveries

**Unexpected Discoveries**

_Authors Notes: A warning to all Bakula/Archer fans: This chapter won't be pretty. I hated how he was 'healed' from the terror of being the one in charge of the Xindi mission by shagging Erika. This has been a StarTrek problem for so long. Yeah – assimilate Picard, kill half of Starfleet at Wolf 359 and be healed by a 30 seconds mud wrestling match with your brother. Yeah – make Archer be forced to make horrible choices in the Expanse and have him healed by plunging it into poor Erika, only for him to be ridiculously irrational in "Daedalus". At least Janeway was properly bonkers and psychopathic. (rant over) _

_Sorry doesn't happy in my universe..._

_February 15th 2155_

Anna Hess was waiting at the transporter controls, not showing her confusion at the stale smell of alcohol she had noticed on the Captain's breath when passing by him. The rather nauseating mixture it created with the toothpaste and the mouthwash was a sign that he had tried his best to mask it. But whatever he had dumped into his skull the last night must have been quite strong.

She could understand that he would meet with the Chief – maybe to rekindle their friendship that had been badly damaged over the last two years. But was that really necessary to do that the night before the Chief walked into a dangerous desert on Vulcan? Everybody knew how useless the Chief was in desert environments. Men – she ranted mentally to herself – did they always have to do stupid things at most inopportune times? Or was it none of that and the real reason was something else? Her stomach clenched painfully.

The door opened and Anna bit her lip to prevent herself from doubling over, her mental ruminations forgotten for a moment. It looked as if carnival was in full swing. Commander T'Pol and Ensign Sato – Lieutenant Sato, she corrected her mental mix-up – wore identical sand colored catsuits that wouldn't be out of place in a sleazy night club. They weren't really designed for someone with a few bodily flaws. As someone, who liked the occasional tryst with both genders of the species, she could certainly attest to the fact that those two didn't have any such flaws.

Apparently Trip and Lieutenant Commander Reed had decided to distract any bystanders from the catsuits by sheer hilarity. Both wore light khaki colored ensembles, made up of a pair of pants and an equally light jacket and both were wearing Arab head gear. Of course, concerning protection, it was the best idea possible, but it made them look like a 22nd Century attempt at resurrecting Laurence of Arabia.

But the true hilarity came from the weaponry they were carrying. All of them had two MACO batons in a holster tied to their thighs, which somewhat ruined the exquisite look of the womenfolk's slender legs. They carried the crossbows Engineering had built hanging over their backs, except Commander T'Pol, who was the only one carrying a backpack. She had hers tied to it, which certainly wouldn't help fetching it if needed.

Not really listening to the parting words between the Captain and the four desert warriors, she started to check and re-check the transporter settings. Even after four years she didn't trust the thing any farther than she could throw it – which wasn't far. The number of incidents had been surprisingly low, but she was not going to take any chances. Her dark premonition returned and she found herself torn between feeling bad about the captain and caring about getting her charges down in one piece.

Holding her breath after receiving the Captain's command, she slowly raised the energy levers and the two women disappeared from the transporter pad.

_Two down, two to go, _she thought with relief when the feedback data came up positive.

=/\=

Hoshi and T'Pol were marching a considerable distance before them. Malcolm had suggested to walk in pairs at a distance to prevent them from providing a convenient, single target for either wildlife or armed fugitives with a bad temper. As the one, who was actually naturally equipped to cope with the environment, T'Pol scouted ahead with Hoshi, while he and Trip brought up the rear.

"How good is her hearing," Malcolm probed, trying to find out about T'Pol's surveillance capacity.

"She'll hear any wildlife way before us."

"I was more interested in whether she can hear us," he clarified.

"Not, really; If we were yelling – yes, then she would. Knowing T'Pol, she selected the distance just so as to not be distracted by our chatter, but close enough to hear when we're in trouble."

"Surprising," Malcolm snorted in his typical sarcastic tone. "Seeing as they didn't really think the 'distracting' part through."

"Oh those," he heard Trips chuckle after he had vaguely pointed at the two shapely derrieres wiggling ahead of them. Both were tightly hugged by the catsuits and, if any of them had a mole on her behind was really the only question this particular apparel left unanswered.

"Well, it's an effective way to make sure that we **really **follow them, isn't it."

"You can't be serious?" Malcolm protested, making sure that Trip understood how ridiculous he found that notion.

"Of course not."

Malcolm started to get a bit annoyed at Trip's obvious amusement at his expense.

"For T'Pol that's her normal outfit and Hoshi is trying to send you a subtle hint."

"Subtle?" Malcolm snorted. "She's as subtle as a pink clown. But she must know that I'm the wrong recipient of that message."

"Who are you kidding, Malcolm?" he heard Trip's laconic reply. "Your name appears in the officers handbook twice. Once in the chapter about marksmanship and in the 'model officer' checklist. Yet you rushed in to hug and hold Hoshi in front of the whole top brass and a lot of scandalized Vulcans at thefuneral. Which part of 'I'm in love with her' didn't yet sink in?"

Malcolm covered his eyes, frustrated about Trip's ignorance.

"Trust me mate, that part has sunken in a long time ago and has me torn ever since. After the Xindi mission I was this close to resigning my commission," he held up two fingers less than an inch apart to emphasize his point. "Just so I could show up on her door, fall to my knees and declare my feelings to her."

"Obviously you didn't."

"No, I didn't. That would mean leaving her behind with someone else in charge of her safety. Maybe someone less capable."

"She could have resigned, too."

"How big were the chances," Malcolm said, sadly. "We were the only NX-crew at the time – the only ones with any sort of deep space experience. Starfleet would have offered us the moon to keep at least one of us and they would have worn at least one of us down, maybe both. Then they would have put one of us on Columbia, because of this bloody no-frat malarkey."

Malcolm felt like throttling Trip. He was pouring out his heart to him and he was laughing so loud that T'Pol had heard it and she was currently looking back at them with a raised eyebrow.

"Sorry 'bout that, Mal," and Malcolm accepted the 'apology' with a nod. "First of all, I take back the part about you being a model officer. If you were, you would have read the recent bulletin from Starfleet Command. You are O-4 now. You got it, too."

"If it escaped your memory, I was preparing a dangerous away mission. One that involves people, who are rather important to me," he snapped back, annoyed at being called out for his tardiness.

"You better had," Trip said. "Then you would know that the no-frat restrictions have been eased for deep space personnel with at least one year of space time."

He looked at him in shock. Trip didn't wear a shit eating grin, so it didn't look like he was taking the mickey out of him.

"May I ask for a summary, Sir," he requested in mock formality.

"Basically you have to report it to the Captain yourself and he can exempt you from the restriction, but has the right to revoke his permission if he sees you're not handling it very well. At least you should have no problem with that one. Well, Hoshi..."

"What's with her. The dedicated wall flower of the bridge crew?"

He heard Trip laugh again.

"Oh, Mal, you're in for a helluva eye-opener," Trip said and Malcolm saw him point at Hoshi's bum, wiggling seductively in the distance. "I wasn't joking when I said that is her idea of a subtle hint."

"She always struck me as the shy, always friendly and tidy type?" Malcolm said in confusion.

"Remember her being on probation when we shipped out for the first time?"

"Sure, even though I never found out why."

"She ran a little gambling scheme at the Academy. It wasn't strictly illegal, but one of her superiors didn't like it and wanted to close it down. She ended up breaking his arm."

"She told you that?" Malcolm said, surprised by the news. His sweet little Hoshi – a bar brawler?

"Yep, she told me, shortly before we died."

"I think the conversation has just taken a turn for the weird," Malcolm snorted, although he knew Trip was talking about the 'virus' incident a few weeks ago.

"Anyway, since she didn't want herself or anyone else to get into more trouble she carefully crafted her 'mute wall flower' image – at least in public. Trust me, that girl of yours is a lot livelier than you think."

"You seem to know her remarkably better than me," Malcolm said, hoping that Trip didn't notice the slight hurt he was feeling.

"Hey what can I say? We died together. Had a lot of time to talk." Trip quipped.

=/\=

Phlox was feeding his menagerie, when he heard the doors to sickbay swoosh open. With a desperate lunge he grabbed his Pyrinthian bat before the animal could make a break for it. He gently stuffed it back into its cage and closed it. Turning around he saw Lieutenant Hess waiting in the entrance.

"What can I do for you, Lieutenant," Phlox started in a lighthearted mood. "I hope you haven't taken your standing in for Commander Tucker as seriously as to replicate his predilection for getting himself injured, hm?"

Phlox turned serious immediately, when he saw that she was fighting with tears. This was definitely not a question of broken bones.

"Should we go into my office?" he suggested softly and showed her the way after she had nodded as the only answer to his question.

"Now Lieutenant, what can I do for you?"

"I feel terrible doing this," she started and broke down in tears. Phlox waited patiently for her to regain some composure. Although Denobulans were reluctant to be touched, he put a soothing hand on hers. What he also saw that there was a considerable amount of anger mixed in with her sadness.

"I think... I think...the Captain's drinking," she blurted out. "It's been a long time since I smelled someone reeking outta his skull like that before!"

"What do you mean," Phlox said in alarm – that was a very grave accusation.

"This morning. I operated the transporter when we sent them down," she said, still sobbing. "I wasn't even very close to him, but he stank like 602 after a bachelor party, even though he had brushed his teeth and gurgled with mouth wash. The last time he wasn't shaved was when we got him back to the ship from that Nazi camp. He must have blown out his own lights completely yesterday.

"What makes you think that?" Phlox said. "You know that Captain Archer sometimes drinks a bit too much. You helped us carry him back, when he inebriated himself with Commander Shran several weeks ago."

"First I thought, maybe he had Trip over for a drink, but neither Trip nor T'Pol showed any signs of having been drunk. And they're the only ones beside Shran he would invite."

"Did he show any symptoms of a hangover? Tremor maybe?"

"Any?" she howled and Phlox backed off slightly at the intensity of her reaction. "All of them! Tremor; the runs; Travis told me he ran off the bridge and vomited his fucking guts out, but the worst thing... When he visited Engineering this afternoon, he reeked of it again and this time it wasn't stale!"

"Have you any prior experience with alcohol abuse yourself, Lieutenant?" Phlox asked softly. She nodded.

"My brother Vince. We were all too blind to see the signs. Not until...until we found him in the fucking bathtub with slashed wrists!"

Phlox shot up from his seat and grabbed a hypospray from a nearby medical kit. Lieutenant Hess was crying hysterically and had started to hyperventilate helplessly. Considering that she had cried through most of their talk, the danger of hypocapnia became too imminent for his comfort. He injected the sedative and he cradled her gently as she started to drift out of consciousness. He scooped her up in his arms and carried her to a nearby biobed.

With professional ease he took the uniform off her unresponsive body and tucked her in.

"You saw the signs this time, Anna. I promise, I'll save him," he whispered and covered her unconscious body with a blanket.

=/\=

"A most intricate design," Professor Solan assessed. Only an hour ago they had received the design suggestions from the humans on how to incorporate Vulcan shielding technology into the NX design. He was now evaluating them with a team of his most experienced researchers.

"The amount of changes appears excessive," one of his colleagues complained. "It appears they randomly relocated components without necessity. As a result they created unnecessary additional modifications. And if I may say so, the final result appears somewhat ungainly."

Solan fought down the urge to snort. Obviously this colleague had no prior experience working with humans.

"This is because humans value function over form. This may look ungainly," he explained, pointing at the new secondary hull that spoiled the otherwise elegant shape of the human ship. "But by adding it they regained a whole host of additional or improved functionality."

"If you would please elaborate, Professor," his colleague asked, properly chastised.

"The humans know that we can produce such a secondary hull of such size in a matter of days. Most likely Commander T'Pol informed them about that. By moving the engineering section to this secondary hull, they gain more space, allowing them to maintain the unit more efficiently and leaving space for eventual upgrades to reach higher speeds. At the same time they free up space for the deflector dish generator unit, thus preempting any need to do destructive modifications to the hull, which would have consumed more time."

"Quite a complex system of logic," the colleague remarked.

"It does not end there," Solan continued. "They also reserved space for a smaller, but fully operational battle bridge in the secondary hull. In a battle situation they can relocate there, where they are in the strongest area of protection as opposed to their normal top mounted bridge that would be unprotected as soon as the field strength is reduced to less than 75 percent. Their secondary bridge is still fully protected even if the shields are only operating at twenty percent."

"I admit to confusion," his colleague answered. "Has the former government truly misled us about their intelligence this comprehensively?"

"They merely failed to learn about them. As one human several years ago explained to me," Professor Solan lectured. "Vulcans think fast and straight-forward. Humans occasionally navigate a corner, seemingly without the necessity. We are superior as long as the target lies straight ahead. If it does not, they still reach the target, even if slower or on a longer path. We however, fail, because we cannot navigate the corners."

"A quite remarkable analogy. It must have been one of their most esteemed scientist."

"Not at all," Solan contradicted him. "It was a rather emotional young human engineer, who tried to impart on me his conviction that even though the Humans had just lost their Warp 2 prototype, they would eventually prevail by 'thinking laterally'."

His colleague looked at him blankly and Solan raised an amused eyebrow.

"His name was Lieutenant Charles Tucker the Third," Solan hit the point home, knowing that all his colleagues were familiar with that name.

=/\=

The break between his pushing the door bell and the 'enter' command was quite telling Phlox thought and his mood sank as he realized he would most likely have to do something drastic. He entered as the command finally came, carefully trying to maintain a serious face – which was not too hard considering the gravity of what would now unfold.

"Doctor, what can I do for you?" the Captain asked and Phlox could easily identify the slight slur in the Captains speech.

"There are grave news," Phlox play-acted. "You would not happen to have – what does Commander Tucker call it? - a stiff drink?"

"Sure," the Captain said and Phlox mentally ticked the first box on his check list: Eagerness to find an excuse to drink. It didn't improve his mood. While the captain walked – or more precisely staggered – to the cabinet, he surreptitiously hovered his scanner over some fluid on the table.

"Dammit, they hit every disturbance there is," the Captain swore, wobbling on his way to the cabinet a second time.

'Making up excuses for balance or coordination problems' – number two on Phlox's checklist. The inevitable was really becoming inevitable.

The Captain returned with two glasses and a bottle of Andorian Ale that was not quite full anymore. Phlox barely managed to pocket the scanner before the Captain saw it. The values he had gotten by secretly scanning his soon-to-be patient spoke volumes.

"What is it doc?" The Captain asked after downing his glass. Phlox took the one Jonathan had filled for him and emptied it into the pot of his artificial plant.

"Captain, by the authority given to me as the chief medical officer, I hereby relieve you of your command on charges of continuous substance abuse," Phlox said, his voice breaking slightly over the agony of having to do this to the man, who had been his captain for over four years.

'Drinks in attempt to cope with stressful situations', Phlox mentally ticked off the third box, when Archer consumed the liquid right out of the bottle.

"You better have sssomessing ta say for ya, Phlox, or Security will carry yer dead body outta here," Archer reeled.

'Aggression when confronted unexpectedly' – number four.

"Your crew notices the smell of alcohol on your breath," Phlox began to rattle off his arguments. "This stain on your table is not older than twenty minutes and it is a liquid with a high concentration of alcohol. Your speech is impeded, you cannot walk in a straight line. I think we can establish you are highly intoxicated at the moment."

"Ssso I hadda drink, so what?" Archer ranted and emptied the rest of the bottle right out of it. Phlox forced himself not to wince. He stabbed away at his scanner.

"You show at least 3 psychological and behavioral symptoms of someone suffering from alcoholism. Your liver values are devastating. You have been inebriated on at least 93 percent of all days since we left the Qu'vat colony."

"Whaddaya want?!" Archer yelled and threw the empty bottle at Phlox. He ducked it and pressed the alarm button on his communicator.

The door opened and two burly men from security walked in and threw the captain to the floor. Phlox injected a sedative.

"To the Brig," Phlox ordered in a breaking voice. "Post a medical detail as well."

When the security crewmen had left, carrying out the captain's unconscious body, Phlox sank down on a seat and for the first time since the death of baby Elizabeth – he cried.


End file.
